tly
sneak off in order to consult your own comfort and convenience? Would
you be patient and reasonable then?"

"Harry, don't talk in that excited way. Listen! She does not ask you
to go away for your sake, but for hers."

"For her sake?" he repeated, staring. "If she is indifferent how can
that matter to her? Well, I suppose I am a nuisance to her--as much as
I am to myself. There it is: I am an interloper."

"My poor boy," his cousin said with a kindly smile, "you don't know
your own mind two minutes running. During this past week you have been
blown about by all sorts of contrary winds of opinion and fancy.
Sometimes you thought she cared for you--sometimes no. Sometimes you
thought it a shame to interfere with Mr. Roscorla; then again you grew
indignant and would have slaughtered him. Now you don't know whether
you ought to go away or stop to persecute her. Don't you think she is
the best judge?"

"No, I don't," he said. "I think she is no judge of what is best for
her, because she never thinks of that. She wants somebody by her to
insist on her being properly selfish."

"That would be a pretty lesson."

"A necessary one, anyhow, with some women, I can tell you. But I
suppose I must go, as she says. I couldn't bear meeting her about
Eglosilyan and be scarcely allowed to speak to her. Then when that
hideous little beast comes back from Jamaica, fancy seeing them walk
about together! I must cut the whole place. I shall go into the army:
it's the only profession open to a fool like me; and they say it won't
be long open, either. When I come back, Jue, I suppose you'll be Mrs.
Tressider."

"I am very sorry," his cousin said, not heeding the reference to
herself: "I never expected to see you so deep in trouble, Harry. But
you have youth and good spirits on your side: you will get over it."

"I suppose so," he said, not very cheerfully; and then he went off to
see about the carriage which was to take Wenna and himself for their
last drive together.

At the same time that he was talking to his cousin, Wenna was seated
at her writing-desk answering Mr. Roscorla's letter. Her brows were
knit together: she was evidently laboring at some difficult and
disagreeable task.

Her mother, lying on the sofa, was regarding her with an amused look:
"What is the matter, Wenna? That letter seems to give you a deal of
trouble."

The girl put down her pen with some trace of vexation in her face:
"Yes indeed, mother. How is